


Before

by Azarathian



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Azarath, Childhood, Flashback, Other, Past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6477181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azarathian/pseuds/Azarathian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A regular childhood was always to be something of reverie to the daughter of the Devil; something elusive, which dwelled far beyond the imposing temple walls that contained her. Her youth was to be abducted by cold, watchful eyes and an irrevocable exile by her people. For when the imminent threat of their world is upon them, who could accept the girl with the apocalypse in her eyes?</p><p>A/N: This will be a set of drabbles exploring Raven's childhood in the temples of Azarath. She is between the ages of 5-12 in these stories. I am only knowledgeable in the animated series universe and so this is my own interpretation of how I imagine Raven's childhood would've transpired. I will be forever not okay with the fact this wasn't explored more in the series and so have taken it upon myself to do so - enjoy! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Training

“Again.”

The ground scorched beneath her knuckles as she curled them in, nails raw upon the turf. A pulsing sun beat across her back as she inhaled its taunting heat, and with heavy breath she dug her feet into the grit and winced at the weight against her bruising knees.

“I don’t think I can…” Her voice came like a croak amid the courtyard, trembling in fatigue.  
“You will.”  
The figure loomed above her with sallow gaze, arms firm across his chest as he bore down at the child.  
“Again,” he urged, tone as cold as before.

Her chest throbbed in objection and teeth sank into her lower lip, drawing a sharp sob from her throat – but the sound fell deaf upon her oppressor’s ears. In her moment’s reprieve the girl’s mind fleeted to the children beyond the walls, with their bright faces and wistful smiles. Oftentimes they would dance across her mind like a spectre of ghosts; elusive, transient, and so sorely naive in their mirth. Behind her eyes, she could see them, giggling at a bird overhead and holding their mothers’ hand through the streets… whilst she could merely suffer and endure, all the while aware of the stone eyes fixed upon her in callous repute.

A sigh fled her lips in slow abandon as she heaved her weary form from the floor. Finally, she found herself standing once more, though her muscles wailed for rest. With tense stance she shook the images from her head, instead regarding the fresh burn in her calves, the newfound scrapes, red in her palms. A heaviness churned within her. The noontide glare was white around her, casting the grounds into fluorescence. Glancing up, she could see how her dwelling gleamed in the light and swelled with an almost lucid charm, as if she were caught in the mirage of a dream.

But the glassy walls suddenly seemed to dull as a pressing weight grasped her shoulder, throwing her all at once from her musings to the present. Radiant as her home might look to the foreign eye, this was no paradise.

It was a prison.

Raven internally tensed at the contact. For the three years she’d withstood it, the girl had grown no more used to – nor fond of – her mentor’s heavy hand. The inevitable affront followed, like a venom to her ears.  
“You understand the urgency of this training, I hope,” he hissed. That same hold impelled her upright, spine straight and feet planted into the ground. Her expression hardened. Of course she knew. She also knew that an answer to such a question wasn’t required, but out of some visceral spite she spoke back a firm “yes.”

Her breath shallowed to a familiar, steady rhythm as she forced composure. It wouldn’t help to dwell on exhaustion – and she knew more than most that neglecting to cooperate was a thing of low tolerance in these walls. Violet eyes fixed upon the target ahead – a simple slab of wood sat upon a pedestal. They grew sharp in concentration, whilst a lithe hand rose before her with fingers splayed. The air seemed to still, before the routine chant broke through parted lips once more.

“Azarath… Metrion…” The rush of energy set her veins alight, surging down her outstretched arm like a missile as she bore her heels into the floor. Unblinking, she clenched her hand into a fist, brought it to her chest before jolting it back out at the mark ahead.  
“Zinthos!”

A bolt of black shot from her palm, but seemed to bloat instantly to thrice her size; a wild, hurling blaze launched through the air with thunderous force towards two pillars opposite, before breaching the surface with a blaring roar. Raven’s eyes grew wide as she gaped at the scene. The pillars, once a hallowed entrance to the pristine outdoors of the courtyard, now fell helplessly to rubble and ash in a colossal heap. The collision shook the terrain beneath the pair’s feet, mighty and fierce in its destruction as a thick cloud of murk coated the debris and smeared the premises. The last remains of marble tumbled down as the explosion perished in their ears, until only a withering echo and smog prevailed in its wake. Raven resisted to pry her stare from the wreckage, knowing what she’d inevitably meet once she did. The thought panicked her, and once again she found herself short of breath, with her heart pelting against her ribs.

She had told him she couldn’t do it.

A grave moment hung in the air before she swallowed and turned to face her mentor.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t –"  
“That’s enough for today.”  
His voice came to her like a welt to the chest.  
“I expect you in the Hathoren Court at 7.00 tomorrow.”

He hadn’t looked at her. Hadn’t taken his eyes from the demolition before him. His arms met behind his back and his features were vacant. She knew these signs all too well; knew they demanded she leave at once without another word. Even for her age, Raven was smart. And despite the weight sinking through her stomach, she knew that, now, that was the best thing to do.

The night was swift in its approach, and even hours after the ordeal had passed, the harrowed child remained confined to the shawls of her bed. Her face was cold as it pressed against the mattress. She curled into herself and clutched the bridge of her cloak, just for something to grasp. The metallic taste of blood lined her tongue as she gnawed desperately at her inner cheek, eyes glazed with the anguish they held.

But she could not cry.

For in this body, to feel was to destroy. And so with resilient mind and heavy heart, she told herself through the silence of the night, again and again.

She could not cry.


	2. It is not you we fear, but what sleeps inside you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with a three year old Raven, isolated from birth from the world around her.

“Why don’t they let me go outside?”   
“It would be dangerous, Raven. You know that. It’s safer for you in here. For everyone.”  
“Are there people who want to hurt me out there?”  
“Some people might.”  
“But why?”  
“Because sometimes people get scared. Scared that you might hurt them first.”  
“I’d never hurt them. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”  
“I know that, Raven. But they don’t. Do you see?”  
“No. The other children get to go outside, so why don’t I?”  
“Because you are different.”  
“Different how?”  
“It is difficult to explain…”  
“Well it’s not fair.”  
“Life isn’t fair, child.”


End file.
